


The Temporary Bedfellow

by WattStalf



Category: Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, Homophobic Language, Kink Meme, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 21:45:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5180852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WattStalf/pseuds/WattStalf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU where Rorschach still exists, yet Walter is a prostitute. He manages to keep his two lives separate until, one night, the Comedian hires him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Temporary Bedfellow

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt on the kink meme. I tried to rationalize Rorschach as a hooker, but I kind of sidestepped it a little because, as much as I loved the idea, I couldn't make it fully work in my mind. I saw Eddie mentioned and, as always, I couldn't resist.  
> Prompt: it's got me thinking about what if he became a prostitute and then a mask at the same time? Being Rorschach at night and beating up criminals with Dan, and then by day he's whoring (or maybe he works alternate nights because lets face it neither are really daytime things). How long before Dan finds out? How awkward is it when Adrian or Eddie hires Walter?

His life was a duality that even he could not explain or justify, split between two identities that were in direct opposition to each other, that hated each other. Some nights, he was Walter, a young prostitute who had been thrust into the life young to help make ends meet, and other nights, he was Rorschach, the vigilante with black and white morals.

It went without saying that Rorschach did not like prostitutes, and that Walter, therefore, did not like himself. But it was all he had known and he needed it to survive and he did not know the way out. At least Rorschach gave him some sort of escape, even if it was hypocrisy. It was what he had to do.

He just never expected these two lives to come into direct contact with one another.

But that was bound to happen, and he probably should have realized that sooner, but some stupid part of him hoped so hard that he began to believe it wouldn't happen. Then the Comedian came to the docks where he worked on a night when he happened to be working instead of serving justice. And Walter shrunk back as the Comedian apprehended what boys didn't run away, and he himself did not run, frozen in place from fear and fascination and stupidity.

Then the Comedian rounded on him, ready to strike before taking pause. The older man looked Walter up and down and he panicked for a moment, irrationally thinking that he had been recognized, that the jig was up. But then he calmed down enough to remind himself that there was no way he was recognized, and that, if he planned this right, he might be able to fight his way out. Unlikely, with a big guy like the Comedian, but still possible.

But then he spoke, saying only, “Ya know, ya don't see many natural red heads around these parts.” He gave Walter an approving stare that chilled him, the realization of what was happening dawning on him with sudden, horrifying clarity.

“Ya ain't pretty, but you'll do,” he said with a grin, clapping his hand on Walter's shoulder. “Whattaya say?”

“I don't...” Every part of him was screaming for him to resist. As if it weren't already risky enough to bring his two lives so close together! Taking on one of his associates as a client would be too much, and what was the Comedian doing out here, trying to buy him?

He knew, somewhere inside, that the Comedian was not a good man, but there was something else inside of him that he insisted he was, that looked up to him. After all, he had been a war hero. Wasn't there something admirable in that? But now he was buying a male prostitute and that image was threatened to be shattered.

“No sense sayin' no,” he said. “It's either me or prison, and I guarantee those guys ain't gonna pay like I will.”

Walter nodded, because it was the only thing he could do. He would have to endure this night and forever remember seeing a side to the Comedian that he hated, or he would face prison, and prison did not fit with his plans. And who was he to judge a second life, a moral lapse? He was the one selling himself, after all, and he was the one who accepted the money offered.

They walked to a cheap hotel then, and the Comedian paid the desk clerk a substantial amount more than the room rates, most likely to keep him quiet about the whole ordeal. They were sent to a dirty room where Walter kept his eyes trained on the stained carpet and the Comedian chuckled.

“Feelin' nervous, kid? Thought ya did this all the time.”

Walter shook his head, then nodded. “I do. Not nervous, just...”

“Whatever, kid. Let's just get down to it, alright?” The Comedian looked at him expectantly, but did not make a move. There was a long, uncomfortable pause as Walter waited, but his client still did nothing.

“Usually your type initiate,” he said, hoping to help. The Comedian gave him a blank stare, as if he did not quite understand. “You lead.”

“Oh. Oh, well, yeah of course,” the man said, but his laugh was nervous this time and his eyes darted to the side. Again, he did nothing.

“Your first time with a man,” Walter observed and it made sense to him, given all that he knew about the Comedian and what had transpired so far. “You've never done this before.”

He opened his mouth as if to protest, to deny the accusation, but instead, he grumbled, “'Course not. I'm not a faggot or anything like that.”

“Didn't stop you hiring me.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snarled. “Just shut the fuck up, alright? Wouldn't expect a whore to understand, but it's been a while for me. 'Least, it's been a while with someone...” His voice lowered and he ran a hand through the young man's hair; Walter flinched. “Someone like you.”

Walter nodded, both because he knew what he meant and because he wanted this to be over with. He had to speed things along and he asked, “Which way?” The Comedian cocked his head. He tried to think of a way to explain that the older man would understand, but only one phrase came to mind, one that he hated, that the other boys would say when luring in clients. “Suck or fuck?”

The Comedian burst out laughing and took a moment to regain his composure. “Sorry, kid, but...Jesus, ya sounded so fucking solemn! Christ...” Suddenly, he was awkward again, looking away and mumbling, “Fuck, I guess.”

He climbed on the bed then, shedding his pants and getting on his knees, burying his face in a musty pillow. This part was always the worst for him, displaying himself so shamelessly as if he wanted this, as if he wanted to be here. But it was the part that paid the bills, and the bed creaked as the man paying the bills to night got up behind him, pulling down his zipper.

Walter reached up to spread himself, and felt the Comedian press the tip of his cock up against the tight hole. “Lubricant,” he muttered, the pillow muffling him a bit. He felt the man behind him pull back.

“I didn't...shit...”

“Saliva works,” he said. He heard what sounded like him spitting into the palm of his hand, the slick sound of a wet hand rubbing against his cock, and then it was back at his entrance, slowly pressing in.

Walter he hated how used to this sensation he was, how it did not hurt anymore, even with someone as inexperience as the man fucking him now. The Comedian was not small, but even when he was completely engulfed, it was nothing the prostitute could not handle.

And then the man, cured of his nerves by the pleasure he felt, grunted and pulled at Walter's hair, groaning, “Oh, yeah, just like that. Just like that, baby. Ya like that, ya little slut? I know ya do.”

The answer was no, but the answer was also yes, and this really was Walter's least favorite part, because it was the part that he felt himself growing hard, enjoying being used and fucked, enjoying being the whore his mother had made him. Enjoying being the one thing he hated most in the world. But all that slipped away as he let the Comedian fuck him and pull his hair and call him names.

With another grunt, he felt a wet heat within him and the larger man collapsed on top of him. Were he not so strong, he might have been crushed by weight, but Rorschach was resilient and so Walter was resilient too. He had not come, but that was okay; that was better, and he felt his arousal fading as he listened to the labored breathing of his temporary bedfellow.

The next night, Rorschach might meet the Comedian on the streets, and the latter would be none the wiser. The former would wish that he was just as clueless, and wish that he knew nothing of the goings on in his other life, but he could not escape the things that Walter did.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the awkward sex scene but I figure it's awkward for both of them, so it should be awkward for everyone. Sorry I keep headcanoning Eddie as someone with a preference for redheads.


End file.
